


Love's Not Time's Fool Part II Ch.3

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"These are the times that try men's souls."<br/>One year post-513</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love's Not Time's Fool Part II Ch.3

_                                                                     “No one knows what it’s like to be the sad man behind blue eyes.”  _ _ ©P.Townshend _

“Wow!” Justin rocked his head in disbelief. His lids fluttered shut as he chased the scattered thoughts that had plagued his nights, haunted his days. “Why didn’t you just push me off a fucking cliff? It would have been more efficient and definitely less painful.”

“I did that once. Didn’t go over too well. No pun intended, by the way. Don’t even ask.”

“We couldn’t have talked? Words aren’t your strong suit but....”

                                                                                               
“Would it have made a difference?”

“It would have been nice to have a choice. I didn’t have the luxury.” He knocked back his second tequila and waved for a refill. It was shaping up to be a long night.  
  
“You did. Just like I'm here now because I choose to be. You did what you needed to do, what you had to do. For _you_. That’s one of your strong points, one of the reasons why I would never stand in your way.”

When their drinks arrived, he skipped the lime and salt ritual, wincing as the tequila burned a trail to his stomach. “When you started giving excuses why you had to cancel or postpone visits and stopped returning my calls, for the first time, I had doubts about us. I wondered if I said or did something, if I should have—”  
  
“Bullshit. You had your own life to live. I wanted you to be happy. I needed you to be happy. Without me. That way, when or if....” Brian idly circled the rim of his glass. “I told myself it was for the best and as time went on, it became harder to stay in touch.” He mused, “Or easier maybe, because it was less work for me.”  
  
_“_ **Maybe coming back to your old life would be too painful, maybe it’d be easier for you to erase us. But if you need me to go away, I’ll do that. I’ll let you go if you stay.”** _G.Forman_

“Being angry was almost a relief. Blaming you didn’t make it better, but it gave me something to focus on, and it numbed the pain.”  
  
“Better than wallowing in self-pity, I guess.”  
  
“Like you?”  
  
The sardonic lift of a brow was as effective as the trademark smirk. “Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t lock myself away in a tower pining for my one true love. Just because I sell shit doesn’t mean I believe it.”  
  
“Could have fooled me. I heard the opposite from some people.”  
  
“Some people should stay out of other people’s lives.”

“Admit it. You were miserable without me.” He kicked a jeaned leg under the table and received one in return.

“I was miserable most of the time with you.”

                                                                                              * * *

Brian had no desire to talk about how he wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out after Justin left, how the overwhelming despair made him attack each work day with a manic vigor to keep from thinking, how he often stayed at Kinnetik until all hours of the night because his demons would not let him sleep, or how his recurring dream of _A Christmas Carol_ with him as Ebenezer Scrooge scared the living crap out of him.  
  
Distraction was a necessity. Every minute of his conscious activity needed to be filled. When empty patches did occur, he panicked, resorting to one or all of his personal therapies. And although he could still drink and fuck with the best of them, he felt—dare he say the word?—pathetic.  
  
_“Another year has passed me by. What kind of man have I become?_  
                                                        _All of the years I’ve spent in search of myself and I’m still in the dark_  
_‘cause I can’t seem to find the light alone.”_ _©T.Shaw_

“For once,” Justin begged, “just once, no matter how or where we end up, can you drop your bullshit charade and be fucking serious?”

“Fair enough.” He could do this. He _had_ to do this. “I thought I could handle it. You, me, us. I couldn’t.” He sifted through any number of possible reactions, but as seconds passed without an answer, the vise in his chest tightened.

“I have to tell you something.”

 Anxiety boiled his insides but he kept his face blank. He’d had enough practice. “Spit it out. I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

                                            _“ And he never shows his feelings, but the fool on the hill sees the sun going down.”  ©Lennon/McCartney _

“I’m glad we didn’t get married.”

A deadly chill seeped through his emotional armor. So far removed from anything he could have imagined, the words landed like a body blow. Out for the count. “Took you long enough.” His knees threatened to buckle as he pushed away from the table. “Guess our conversation's over.”

                                                                                            * * *

Justin had debated the wisdom of telling him, aware the repercussions could ignite a firestorm of huge consequences. The pleasant, dangerous-as-a-snake tone confirmed his wariness. He latched onto his arm. “Will you at least let me explain before you tell me to fuck off?”

Brian shrugged off the hand. “Knock yourself out,” he said with floaty emptiness.

“You’re upset. I knew it! I knew you would be. I—”  
  
“Cut the dramatics, Princess. I’m not.”  
  
“You are.”  
  
“I said I wasn’t upset.”  
  
“Right. That’s why you could give Mount Rushmore a run for its money. Remember who you’re talking to.” He refused to get sidetracked with a pissing contest. “Brian, we would have wound up hating each other. It was the right decision _at the time._ We didn’t want the same things. I’m not sure we do now. But I do know I don’t want a fuck buddy. I want to come home to one person, talk about my shitty day and wake up to him the next morning. I want a partner.”                                             

                                                                                             * * *  
Brian flinched at the last word. Old habits died hard. “How ridiculously romantic.”  
  
The irony of the phrase was not lost on either man.  
  
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just a natural progression of life when you love someone.”  
  
Love. After all this time, he couldn’t say the words, the ones he repeated in his head and in his heart. He couldn’t believe he said them at all, even after the bombing. Maybe it _was_ shock.  
                                                                             
“Is fucking around still all that matters? I thought this—” Justin waved his hand in the air. “I thought we mattered.”  
  
“Sometimes things change.”  
  
“Of course, things change! They’re supposed to. People also change. I had hoped we would change together and somehow get better at this. But where the fuck are we?”  
  
“Damned if I know.”  
                                                                                             * * *

Justin wanted to lash out, but he couldn’t summon anything stronger than sad resignation. “With all the horrible things we went through—my bashing, your cancer, the bombing, the pink posse—when we could have fallen apart or should have, depending on who you ask, we didn’t.”  
  
His voice sliced through the air like a samurai sword. “And because your narcissism affords you an omniscience equal to God himself, it goes without saying you know what’s best for me. And because this self-bestowed omniscience grants you infinite wisdom, you decided that what was best for me was to be happy alone. Without you. And because it was what _you_ wanted, the great and mighty Kinney made it happen and abracadabra-ed himself out of my life.” He took a deep breath and glared. “Am I close?”

“When you put it that way....”  
  
“Is there a good way to put it?” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “You know, I wanted what books and movies told me I was supposed to want, and I was so set on my fantasy, I lost sight of what was important. Even perfect people wouldn’t be able to live up to those expectations, let alone us. Okay, fine. The dream ended, but it doesn’t mean we have to end. Because when you wake up, the dream is over, Brian. Life isn’t.”

The strain of the evening had taken its toll. He forced himself up from the chair. “Either we start over and try to make it work or we make a clean break. I can’t keep doing this. It hurts too much. Now it’s your call. You decide where _you_ want to be.” Head held high, he strode away without a backward glance. _  
_

**“You’re the first man I ever truly loved. And no matter what the future brings, you always will be, and I know that my life is better for it.”** _ N.Sparks_  
                                                                                              * * *                                      

                                                                      

Brian stared at the door long after he left. Did he have any idea how much of Brian Kinney went with him? He checked the bar. Enough seats had opened up to drink uninterrupted. He slid onto a stool and ordered a double Beam. With the liquor still in his mouth, he signaled for another. He’d transfuse it intravenously if he could. “Leave the bottle.” 

                                                                                            
“Rough night?”  
  
“You have no fucking idea.”

“I figured.”  
  
So much for peace. Freed by copious amounts of alcohol and unwanted sociability, his truculent inner two-year old surfaced. “Really? How did you reach that brilliant conclusion? You related to the Amazing Kreskin?”  
  
“Nope. Went to the United States Bartender’s Academy. Graduated with honors.”  
  
“You’re shitting me.”  
  
“Yeah.” A self-satisfied grin cracked the craggy face. “Wanted to see your reaction.”

“You pull that on all your customers?” He reached for the bottle.

“Nah, just the ones who seem to need it. Like you.” The bartender snatched it back and filled his glass. “You may have bought the bottle, mister, but I have to do my job.”  

                                                                                         

Hunched over his drink, Brian peered into the burnished liquid, replaying the evening. Justin hadn’t said anything he didn’t already know deep down. He simply brought it to the surface in a way he never could. One small comfort, he didn’t say they were over or that he didn’t want him in his life. And he was pretty consistent in saying what he meant. No, all he did was throw their future in his lap by using his own words against him. _It’s your call where you want to be. You decide._ Devious little shit.    

                                                                                                                         

The lengthy separation had made him less perceptive than usual. He underestimated him. He always did. Of all the people he ever met, Justin was the only one who managed to keep up with him, to surprise and challenge him. An equal in every way. And he deserved better, but for some insane reason, he wanted him.  
  
Although a numb tongue and dulled senses proved his quest to empty the bottle was succeeding, his mind was clear as ice. He couldn’t blot out his thoughts. How ironic someone hell-bent on getting plastered had a hollow leg. Time for something stronger.

                                                                

The bartender eyed the scattered rainbow of pills. He interrupted his rhythm swipes on the polished wood and leaned across the bar. “I’d be careful if I were you. There are undercover cops who’d love to haul your ass out of here.”

                                                                           

Brian swiveled in his seat, gave the room a once-over, and pocketed the drugs with a wordless thank you.  
  
“That shit ain’t gonna help you, anyway.”  
                                                         
“Unless you have something better, I’ll stick with the tried and true.”  
  
“Suit yourself. One man’s poison is another man’s cure.” The gray-haired man turned to one of the TV screens where a blonde meteorologist was reporting the weather. “Looks like there’s a change coming.”  
  
“Why is the weather such a big deal in this city? It changes all the goddamn time.” He threw down a handful of bills and stormed out the door, a lit cigarette already between his lips.

Another one followed before he pulled his cell phone out and gave the speed dial button a vicious punch. He paced back and forth, his mood worsening with each unanswered ring.

 _Hi, I can’t come to the phone right now but if you leave your name and number, I’ll get back to you._ Beep.  
  
“Pick up! I—”  
  
A groggy voice answered. “What?”  
  
“Wanna fuck?”  
_“It’s a quarter after one. I’m a little drunk and I need you now.” ©L.Antebellum_

                                                                                                * * *

Befuddled from sleep or lack of, Justin groped for his phone, cursing that he hadn’t turned the damned thing off. But the two words jolted him awake. “You say the sweetest things.”

“You looked fucking hot tonight.”

He squirmed as the throaty timbre heated his cheeks.

“I wanted to rip your clothes off in the gallery and fuck your brains out.” Brian’s voice thrummed with desire. “I still do.”

Ripples of pleasure skirted across his skin at the mental picture. God, it had been so long. He settled against a pillow and trailed his fingers over his nipples, down to his wiry bush. Only when an eager hand ghosted across his cock did he wake from his sexual haze. He’d forgotten Brian's sensual manipulation, his subtle push and pull to get what he wanted. He cleared his throat. “You’re feeling boxed in, aren’t you?”

                                                                              

“You’re joking, right? I’m standing on a fucking street corner in the city that never sleeps, and from the fucking amount of people, I’d say that’s pretty much on the money. Oh, did I also mention I’m freezing my horny ass off?”  
  
“Brian,” he said in his most patronizing tone, “even you can’t control the weather. It always starts to get cold the end of September.”  
  
“Thank you! At least one person in New York recognizes that fact!”  
  
“What the fuck are you talking about?”  
  
“Forget it. Private joke. Can I come up? You can show me your paintings.”  
  
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Isn’t the cliché about etchings? And the answer is no.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“You heard me.”  
  
“Justin, what the fuck?”  
  
“I’ll meet you for breakfast. Take it or leave it.”  
  
“Do I have a choice?”  
  
“You’re the one who said we did have choices, remember?”  
  
“Do you always listen to everything I say?”  
  
“You’re omniscient. Of course, I do.”  
  
“Very funny. Don’t give up your day job.”  
  
“So I’ll see you in the morning?”

 _So, will I see you again?_  
_Yeah, you'll see me._  
  
Softened by the sliver of uncertainty, Brian said, “Yeah, you’ll see me.”  
  
“Ten o’clock. I’ll meet you at the coffee shop across the street from my building.”  
  
“The fucking coffee shop? Why can’t we go to your place?”

 _Why can’t I live with you?_  
Because my place is only big enough for one person.  
  
“Because we need to have a conversation.”  
  
“And we can’t do it there?”  
  
His libido reeled. “No, we absolutely, positively cannot. We need some place neutral where we can talk with our mouths, not our dicks.”  
  
“I thought I was very talkative with my mouth, Sunshine. Jesus Christ! Why are you putting me through this hell?”  
  
“We’ve already been to hell, Brian. It’s time for us to climb out.”

_“The time to hesitate is through, no time to wallow in the mire. Try now we can only lose and our love becomes a funeral pyre.” ©R.Krieger_

 

 **Continue here** : <http://archiveofourown.org/works/1530635>


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